The morning sun filtered through the curtains of Abir's home, casting a warm glow across the living room as Abir, now properly dressed in a crisp shirt and jeans, wiped the sweat from his brow and opened the front door. His parents stepped inside, their faces bright with the energy of their early return. Abir's mother, her eyes sharp, immediately noticed his flushed appearance. "Why are you sweating, Abir?" she asked, her tone laced with concern.
Abir hesitated, his mind racing for an excuse. "Nothing, I just…" he stammered, his voice trailing off.
"Are you sick?" his mother pressed, stepping closer to inspect him.
"No, no," Abir replied quickly, forcing a smile, his heart pounding as he tried to steady himself.
Just then, Joita emerged from the hallway, properly dressed in a modest kurta, her long black hair neatly tied back. "Hi, Aunty, Uncle," she greeted warmly, her voice smooth and composed.
Abir's mother's face lit up with excitement. "Oh! Joita! Haven't seen you in a long time!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to envelop Joita in a tight hug, her laughter filling the room. Abir's father followed, a gentle smile on his face. "How are you doing, Joita?" he asked.
"I'm fine, Uncle. How are you?" Joita replied, returning his smile with ease.
"I'm fine," Abir's father said, nodding approvingly.
Abir's mother released Joita from the hug, stepping back to admire her. "You've really grown a lot, Joita," she said, her eyes twinkling. Joita smiled modestly in response.
"How is your mother, Joita?" Abir's mother continued, her curiosity piqued.
"She's fine. By the way, Aunty, you haven't aged at all," Joita complimented, her tone playful.
Abir's mother laughed heartily. "Of course, daughter. I can't age before watching you two get married. I have to dance at your wedding, don't I?" she teased, her eyes darting between Joita and Abir.
Joita lowered her head, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks, her hands fidgeting slightly as she avoided Abir's gaze.
Meanwhile, Abir's father sidled up to his son, leaning in to whisper, "If you'd messaged me that Joita was here, we would have returned home a bit later. You might have gotten some extra time." His tone was conspiratorial, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
Abir's eyes widened, and he responded quickly, "No, Father, we didn't do anything."
His father chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Yeah, tell me about it. Remember, I'm your father, Abir," he said with a wink, his amusement evident.
Abir's mother, oblivious to the exchange, took Joita's hand and led her toward the kitchen, chattering animatedly about recipes and family updates. The two women disappeared into the kitchen, their voices a soft hum in the background.
Soon, Joita joined Abir's family for breakfast—pancakes and fresh fruit—where they ate, talked, and laughed together. The conversation flowed easily, with Abir's mother sharing stories of his childhood antics, Joita adding her own witty remarks, and his father offering dry humor that kept the table lively. The tension from the morning's earlier frenzy melted away in the warmth of the family meal.
After breakfast, Abir and Joita prepared for college, dressing quickly and leaving the house together. They walked side by side, the morning air crisp as they moved away from home. After a bit, Joita broke the silence, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Aunty knows, Abir."
Abir startled, his steps faltering as he turned to her, his voice laced with panic. "What! How?"
Joita smirked, her evil grin returning. "I'm not sure. But in the kitchen, she gave me a painkiller tablet and said, 'Daughter, take this. You need it. At first, I had to rely on these tablets. Abir's father is always sweet. But he's a beast in bed. And by looking at you, I'm guessing Abir got his father's gene.'" She laughed softly, watching Abir's reaction.
Abir groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Ah! Mother!" he exclaimed, his face a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.
Joita's laughter rang out, lightening the moment as they continued toward college.
Before they could enter the campus gates, a figure stepped into their path, blocking their way. Professor Meera stood there, her authoritative presence unmistakable, her arms crossed and her expression stern. Abir stopped short, confusion etching his features. "What is it, ma'am?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.